Something Wicked
by Library Rat
Summary: Angel encounters a witch in an alley, and what was supposed to be a quiet night off for our heroes takes an unexpected turn. Ensemble cast, with special appearances by Lindsey and Lilah.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Angel and Co. are the property of Joss & ME.

**Author's Note:** Events take place in the early part of Season 2. Written for my sister, who double-dog dared me to insert an original character into the Angel 'verse. I've been writing fiction for a long time, but am new to posting. I'll endeavor to keep my technological glitches to a minimum. Constructive criticism is always welcome

**Chapter 1**

"So, do we have a deal?" Lindsey McDonald asked.

The law firm of Wolfram & Hart was used to seeing any number of odd characters in its offices and conference rooms: vampires, demons, wizards, tax attorneys. By contrast the young woman sitting across the table from Lindsey seemed blatantly normal. Human, for one thing. Conventional looking, casually dressed. She wasn't even a blip on the radar screen.

_A lucky break for us_, Lindsey thought.

Lindsey felt his colleague, Lilah, shift impatiently in her chair as they waited for their guest to respond. Lindsey kept his eyes trained on the girl. She held herself stiffly in her seat, her expression carefully guarded. But Lindsey knew she'd accept the offer. She wanted the payoff.

Finally, she nodded. "We have a deal."

Lindsey and Lilah exchanged a quick, triumphant glance.

"Wonderful." Lilah opened her briefcase and pulled out a thick file. "Now, you know how this works, Rachel. You scratch our back, we--"

"Try to stab mine as soon as I turn it on you. Yeah, I know how it works," Rachel replied.

Lilah's smile lost a tinge of its smugness. Lindsey fought down a smile of his own. "This is your target," he said, sliding the file across the table. "His name is Angel—a vampire. He runs a private detective agency here in Los Angeles. And he's been a liability to us for quite some time now. Everything you need to track him down is in the file. We don't care how you do the job as long as he's dust."

Rachel scanned the pages of the file. She did not look pleased. "Problem?" Lindsey asked.

"I can't help but notice the list of people who've gone up against this guy. Including a Slayer. And they've all lost. What exactly makes you think I can pull this off?"

"You're a Kindred," Lilah replied. "This is exactly the sort of think you're trained to do; fighting, magic. It's a shame we can't get more of you to contract with Wolfram & Hart."

"We just want you to understand that you have our utmost confidence," Lindsey added. "Of course, if you think you can't handle it--" He moved to take back the folder.

Rachel closed Angel's file and stood, tucking the folder under her arm. "Fine. I'll dust the vampire for you. You just make sure you hold up your end of the deal."

"You'll be rewarded," Lindsey assured her, "according to your specifications. As soon as you finish your assignment, we'll make the call."

"Why not make it now? I'm not planning on this taking very long."

"Ah, but then you wouldn't have quite the same incentive, would you?" Lindsey replied. "We like our assassins properly motivated. After the job is done, and not a minute before."

When she was gone, Lilah poured herself a cup of coffee and perched on the edge of the table, regarding Lindsey with a bemused expression. "Do you honestly believe she has a hope in hell of taking Angel down?" she asked.

Lindsey leaned back in his chair. "I doubt it," he replied. "Not that it matters. We're certainly not out anything if she gets killed." He twirled his pen idly. "I thought her terms were pretty interesting."

"Very," Lilah agreed. "Definitely something we should check into. Could look really good at review time.

Lindsey chuckled. "Hell, Angel will be doing us a favor if he kills her," he said. "It'll save us the trouble of doing it later."

"And if she kills him?"

"Well, that will just be a nice bonus."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rachel walked up the stairs out of the club, buttoning her coat against the evening chill. She stood aside to let a group of college students, laughing nervously, pass her by on their way in. The door swung open and the sound of a Botot demon painfully slaughtering _Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic_ drifted out. Rachel winced at one particularly flat note.

Between the information in the file she'd received that morning and some hastily conducted snooping of her own, she'd chosen the karaoke club as the best place to do the job. The vampire wouldn't be expecting something like this here. She'd laid her bait. It wasn't very sophisticated bait. In point of fact, it was ridiculously simple bait. But she was pretty sure the vampire would bite (metaphorically speaking). If she'd had more time she might have come up with something more elegant, but she didn't. She wanted to get it over with, collect from the lawyers, and be out of this godforsaken city tonight.

There wasn't much foot traffic outside the club. That was good. Rachel walked the short distance to the narrow alley that she'd staked out earlier. The mouth was dimly lit by a dangling security light, and it stretched backwards into darkness. Rachel pulled two small gray orbs out of her pocket, and placed one carefully on either side of the mouth of the alley. They didn't have much of a charge, but they'd be good for one punch. There was nothing left to do. Rachel hunkered down behind the dumpster where she'd stashed her supplies and waited.

"Man, I can't believe how much I've been looking forward to this," Charles Gunn said as he and Angel walked down the steps into Caritas.

The gang at Angel Investigations had been working non-stop for the last two weeks. They had dispatched a group of Gracknor priests preparing a mass sacrifice at a preschool, a nasty sewer demon, a nest of baby Talith lizards, and eight vampires. What passed for downtime had been spent getting their new office set up at the Hyperion Hotel. The Hyperion had lain abandoned for years, and the accumulated crud practically qualified as a demonic life form in its own right.

Needless to say, they had been in need of some serious R& R.

"We're taking a night off," Cordy had decreed three days ago. "No ifs, ands, buts, arguments, or visions from on high. If we don't take a break, we won't be fit to play Parcheesi with demon nasties. Friday night, eight o'clock. Everyone comes. No excuses."

Angel, Wesley, and Gunn knew better than to argue when Cordelia used that tone. And the fact was they hadn't even wanted to.

"So have I," Angel admitted as they passed through security at the club's doors. "Cordelia was right. We really needed a night off."

"Boys! Right on time." The Host of Caritas, Seabreeze in hand, bustled forward to meet them. "Cordelia called me—I have a primo table reserved for you. So, where's the rest of the party?"

"On their way," Angel replied. "Wesley is picking Cordelia up, but they're running a little late."

"Good. Good," the Host replied. "Then maybe we can deal with this without Cordelia killing me."

"What are you talking about?"

The Host actually looked a bit regretful. "I hate to bring up shop talk on your night off, but--"

"Oh, come on," Gunn protested, but only mildly. That was the thing about helping the helpless. You could never really count on downtime.

"This was left for you a little while ago." The Host handed Angel a folded note.

Angel opened it. Gunn read over his shoulder.

"Who left this?" Angel asked.

"A girl. She was in here looking for you earlier. I told her you'd be by shortly. I asked her to wait, but she just told me to give that to you."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"She didn't say much at all. Pretty close-mouthed, actually. But she was sending out some serious vibes. She's in trouble."

"Who was she?"

"Never saw her before," the Host replied. "And, trust me, I would have remembered. Witches like that don't wander in here every night. I could feel the magic when she came through the door. Made my horns tingle."

"Witch? There are witches now?" Gunn asked.

"What did she look like?" Angel asked, suddenly alert.

The Host shrugged. "Young. Cute. On the short side. Red hair."

"Willow."

"Who's Willow?" Gun asked.

"She's a friend of Buffy's, from Sunnydale," Angel said. And if she'd shown up in LA without so much as a phone call, leaving cryptic notes in demon bars, something was very, very wrong.

"Wait here," Angel told Gunn. "I'll go get her. If Wes and Cordy show up while I'm gone, fill them in."

Angel ran up the stairs, out of the club. The street outside Caritas was deserted.

A noise, just ahead, coming from a narrow alley.

"Willow?" Angel called. What was she doing in Los Angeles? Why wouldn't she have waited for him inside Caritas? The note: _Meet me outside. It's a matter of life and death. Come alone._ What the hell was going on?

"Willow?" She was in the alley. Angel could hear the faint sound of a person shifting position. "Willow, it's Angel." He stepped into the alley, and immediately the ground began to spin under his feet.

At least, that's what it felt like. He hadn't felt so disoriented since the first time he'd gone on a modern carnival ride. A low buzzing filled his ears. Angel shook his head, stumbled drunkenly, and fell to his knees.

Footsteps ahead, and a figure came forward out of the shadows. With a great deal of effort, Angel raised his head. As his eyes moved upward he took in scuffed boots, jeans, a dark jacket open over a green shirt, and an unfamiliar face.

She was obviously not Willow Rosenberg. Her hair was light ginger red, and her eyes were brown. And Willow's face had never worn that expression of cold calculation.

"Are you Angel?" she asked.

Angel nodded slowly. "Yes," he replied. "What….?"

"I'm sorry," she said. She raised her arm, and pointed a crossbow directly at his heart. "It's nothing personal."


	3. Chapter 3

**MysticWolf1: ** Thank you for taking time to review! And yes, that a very good nit pick. I'm going to have to do some tweaking to make sure it's clear that Lindsey and Lilah are dealing under the table (because no matter what the Senior Partners want, I'm sure that Lindsey anyway would do a happy dance if Angel were to bite the big one).

**Author's Note:** I must take a moment to concur with something I heard Joss Whedon say in an interview. Fight scenes are a pain in the butt to write out.

Also, I've managed to upload three knock wood chapters without anything exploding! I'm quite excited as computers are not exactly my strong suit.

**Chapter 3**

The sight of the crossbow woke Angel up enough for him to dodge to the side. He wasn't quite fast enough—the bolt caught him in the shoulder and the pain was enough to snap him completely out of his daze. Without even pausing to pull it out, he charged his attacker before she could get off another shot.

He caught her around the waist, slamming them both into a stack of empty garbage cans. The crossbow went flying, and Angel fancied that the crash could be heard all the way to the Hyperion. He thought he had her, but she worked one arm free and slammed the heel of her hand into the butt of the arrow, driving it in deeper. Gasping in pain, Angel felt his grip loosen, and the girl rolled clear. He turned in time to see her grab the crossbow, rise, and take aim.

This time the arrow flew wide as Gunn tackled her from behind.

One well-placed kick from the girl had Gunn rolling on the ground, coughing. She scrambled to her feet, looking frantically about for her weapon. She found it—being aimed at her by the dark haired woman who had appeared at the mouth of the alley.

"You know," Cordelia Chase remarked, "this is our night off. I had it all planned out. Why can't you miscreants respect the fact that other people have schedules?"

"Angel? Gunn? Are you all right?" Wesley flanked Cordelia, holding the baseball bat that Cordy kept in the car for emergencies.

"We're okay." Angel jerked the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder and threw it aside. Gunn had gotten back to his feet, looking pained and angry. He joined Angel, effectively blocking off the far end of the alley, while Cordy and Wes stood between the girl and the alley's mouth. They had her neatly trapped.

She looked from one pair to the other. Angel's keen ears picked up a muttered, "Oh shit."

Angel took two careful steps toward her. "I don't know why you're doing this," he said evenly, "but it's over. Now, we don't want to hurt you, but--"

That was as far as he got before the girl turned to face him and raised an empty hand. There was a brilliant flash of light, and a shock wave blasted him backwards.

Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn were caught by complete surprise. The girl used it to her advantage. The trash cans, which had been knocked asunder in the initial assault, flew from the ground, driving Wes and Cordy back. She spun at the sound of Gunn running towards her. She never touched him—Gunn simply flew over her head, slamming, upside-down, into the side of the building. Wesley came at her with the bat. She quickly scooped up a piece of two-by-four that lay among the litter in the alley. She met Wes's downwards swing, jerked the board free, and rammed the end into his stomach, causing him to collapse to his hands and knees. She raised the board over his back to deliver another blow.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from behind her.

She turned, but didn't have time to redirect her attack. Angel delivered one staggering blow to her jaw and she went down—right on top of Wesley.

"Ouch," Wesley commented from his prone position.

"Sorry." Angel dragged the unconscious girl aside by one arm and helped Wesley up. "You okay?"

"I'll live," Wesley replied, bending to retrieve his glasses.

"Me too." Gunn staggered into view, bracing his back with one hand. "Cordelia?"

"I'm fine." Cordy sounded more annoyed than hurt. "Aside from smelling like a dumpster. Why does fighting evil have to be so damned messy?" She joined her companions. "So, what's the story? Who is she and why is she trying to kill you?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Angel searched through the girl's pockets while he gave them the abridged, Reader's Digest version of what had happened. He found her wallet, which he tossed to Cordelia. "See what you can find in there," he said. He searched the inner pockets of her jacket and removed a wicked looking stake and a sheathed dagger. These he handed to Wesley.

Wesley held the dagger up to the light, studying the hilt closely. "_That's_ interesting," he said.

"What is?"

Wesley pointed to the sigil that was carved into the hilt. "This is the insignia of the Kindred," he said. At the blank looks from his friends he explained, "The Kindred is a loose paramilitary organization of witches and wizards. They've been active for a little over two hundred years. That would track," he added. "It sounds as if you were hit by a spell designed to throw you off balance."

"Great. Another club o'evil," Cordelia said.

"Well, that's the interesting thing. They're not. Evil, that is," Wesley explained. "The Kindred act primarily as defenders, not only of other witches and wizards, but of ordinary civilians. They're the good guys."

"Is part of their MO dusting random vamps?" Gunn asked, straightening up experimentally.

"No," Wesley said. "An unprovoked sneak attack by one person? From what I know about them it's not ever remotely how they operate."

"What in the name of Aretha happened out here?" The Host had arrived.

Angel gestured to his would-be assassin. "This is the girl you talked to?"

"Yes. What the hell did you do to her?"

"She was trying to kill Angel," Gunn told him. "That note led him into a trap."

The Host looked down at the young woman, shaking his head. "This is wrong. This is very wrong," he said.

"I'll say," Cordelia replied. "If you're mistaking 'I want to dust your ass' with 'I need your help' then I'd say your crystal ball needs some serious polishing."

"I didn't make a mistake," the Host replied indignantly. "She did come in needing help. Serious desperation—that was all I was getting off of her. Believe me, I would have told you if I thought she was planning to go all Ellen Ripley."

"Cordelia, what did you find?" Angel asked.

Cordelia turned her attention back to the girl's wallet. "Let's see. Her name is Rachel Harper. According to her driver's license, she's from Oregon. Twenty-three years old. Registered Democrat. Bank card. Library card. Some pictures. Nothing really out of the…..uh oh."

"What uh oh?" Angel asked.

Cordelia held out a small, cream colored card. In bold black print were the words: _Wolfram & Hart. Lindsey McDonald, Attorney._

"That settles it." Angel picked the girl up. "Let's get back to the hotel."

"And do what?" Cordelia asked.

"And get some answers," Angel replied


	4. Chapter 4

**MysticWolf1: **Thanks! I found the fight surprisingly difficult to write. And no—there's no crossing over. I'm afraid that Rachel is a shamelessly inserted original character (desperately trying to avoid Mary Sue-dom).

I have another scene with L & L coming up in the next chapter. I figure it will be a good chance to flesh out their evil plan more.

Sorry I've been so slow to update. I'm having a hard time getting alone-time with my computer lately.

**Chapter 4**

Angel deposited their guest-slash-prisoner on a sofa in the lobby of the Hyperion.

"Boy, you must have clocked her a good one. She's still out," Cordelia said.

"Lucky her," Angel muttered under his breath. Cordelia had spent the entire trip back to the hotel telling him off for his gullibility. _Boy, one whiff of damsel in distress and any common sense you have goes right out the window, doesn't it? Dear Angel, please come out to a dark alley with no back up so I can lure you into a trap and kill you deader than you already are. Two hundred and some odd years and you actually fell for that? Moron._

"Do you think we might need ropes? Or witch kryptonite? Something?" Gunn asked, eyeing her distrustfully. "What if she wakes up and puts the whammy on us again?"

"I doubt she'll be able to," Wesley said. "I rather imagine she overextended herself. Back in the alley she didn't seem to be using spells or charms—things that channel magic efficiently. She was just throwing raw power. That burns up magic fairly quickly, even if the witch or wizard has strong reserves."

"Wesley, you know something about these Kindred," Angel said. "Is it normal for them to hire out to the likes of Wolfram & Hart?"

Wesley looked extremely skeptical. "I'd say it would be about as likely as a member of the Watcher's Council hiring out to them."

"Maybe she went over to the dark side," Gun said. "Like that Slayer you guys had a run in with who went bad."

"Great. So going by that example we still have some torture, mayhem, and gunplay to get through before we can call this case closed," Cordelia said.

"There's still the matter of the Host's reading," Wesley said. "Why does she need help?"

There was the sound of a body shifting and a quiet groan. Their guest was coming around.

"Let's find out," Angel said.

_Bright lights. Very bright lights_. Rachel opened her eyes a crack, then snapped them shut with a groan of pain. The pounding in her head was nearly enough to drown out all of her other aches.

She tried opening her eyes again. This time a dark, blurry form had moved between her and the glaring lights. Rachel concentrated on blinking the fuzzy shape into focus. Her eyes went wide with horror as she realized who was bending over her.

"Good morning, sunshine," the vampire said. "Nice of you to join us."

Rachel felt her heart jump into high gear as fear flooded her insides. She reached inside herself for her magic, but it was so weak she doubted that she could do so much as ignite a match. Her weapons were gone. She was defenseless.

To her surprise, the vampire straightened up and stepped away. "Can you sit up?" he asked.

Slowly, not sure what sort of game was being played here, Rachel levered herself upright. The vampire stood in front of her, arms crossed, flanked by the three people who had come to his aid in the alley.

"Rachel Harper," the vampire said. Rachel looked at him apprehensively. "My name is Angel. But I take it you know that already."

"Yes."

"These are my associates—Cordelia Chase, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, and Charles Gunn."

The three humans were regarding her with a mixture of puzzlement and suspicion. No help to be had there—that was for certain.

Rachel swallowed. "What are you waiting for?" she asked, hoping that her voice would hold steady.

Angel raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to kill you if that's what you're asking," he said.

She seemed less than reassured by that.

Angel held up Lindsey's card. "We know you're working for Wolfram & Hart," he said. "We also know you're Kindred, which Wesley here tells me means we're on the same side. Why are you dealing with them?"

No answer.

"You know, the Host? The green guy you left the message with? He's pretty good at reading people. Funny thing—when he read you, he didn't read 'killer.' He said that you were in trouble. I'm inclined to believe him."

Rachel stared silently at his knees. Angel decided to play a hunch. "What is Wolfram & Hart holding over your head?" he asked.

Rachel looked up sharply. That told Angel all he needed to know. "Is it blackmail? They're going to have you thrown into prison? They did you a favor and now this is what you owe them? They've threatened you? Your family?"

That last got a reaction. "Who is it, Rachel?" the vampire asked. "Talk to us. We can help you."

Staring up at the vampire, Rachel had a brief, but heated argument with herself. It made no sense. A vampire—moreover a vampire she'd just tried to kill—offering her help? In her experience, vampires didn't help people, period. No matter what Wolfram & Hart's file on him might indicate.

Of course, Wolfram & Hart was evil. Rachel had never had any illusions about that. And they wanted Angel gone. What did that say about him?

Evil or not, she'd blown her chance with Wolfram & Hart. She'd thought it was her only chance. Maybe she'd been wrong.

_What do you really have to lose at this point?_

"Does someone have my wallet?" she asked.

At a nod from Angel, Cordelia handed it over. Rachel slipped one of the pictures out of its plastic sleeve and handed it to Angel.

The picture had been taken outdoors, somewhere near the ocean. Rachel was sitting in the foreground with four other people, another young women and three young men, who seemed to range from early to late twenties. There was a strong family resemblance between all five. Behind them, an older couple sat on a picnic table. A trim middle-aged woman, caught mid laugh, sat with her head leaning against the shoulder of a man with thinning hair and a wide, friendly smile. It was at him that Rachel pointed.

"My uncle, James Harper. He's a Kindred officer. He deals mostly with research and intelligence. Five days ago while he was doing some fact-finding, he was captured by a band of demons called the Savvin."

"I've heard of them," Wesley said. "Particularly brutal and violent."

Rachel nodded. "That would be them. The Kindred leadership made the decision not to mount a rescue operation. They said they couldn't risk it for one person. They said that he was as good as dead anyway."

"You disagree."

Rachel smiled without humor. "The Savvin tend to keep their captives alive for a while. They're more fun that way. I think he's still alive, but I don't know for how much longer. I tracked them to their lair in Los Angeles, but I can't get into it on my own. I knew that Wolfram & Hart has close ties to them, so I went in and cut a deal. I'd do them a favor, and they'd make a call and have him released."

"A favor. Namely killing me," Angel said.

"Namely, killing you," Rachel replied.

"Their lair. Can you show us where it is?"

It took a few minutes for Rachel to orient herself on the large city map in Angel's office, but once she had she was quickly able to locate the block of abandoned buildings where the Saavin were holed up.

Gunn raised one hand. "Question? If you knew where these demons were, why didn't you just go over there and put the magical kibosh on them instead of going to the lawyers? It's not like you lack the firepower."

"I did," Rachel answered, a tad defensively. She shifted uncomfortably. "That was the first thing I tried. Unfortunately, if there's one thing the Saavin excel at—besides sadism—it's security. My firepower didn't cut it."

Gunn was about to open his mouth to ask for details when Wesley, who had been watching her closely, stepped forward and carefully lifted the hem of her shirt up a few inches along her left side, exposing skin mottled purple and red by bruises. Standing out against the discolored mess were four large, half-healed punctures. Rachel quickly caught the hem and pulled it back down, but not before all the others had seen.

Cordelia looked appalled. Gunn hissed in sympathy.

"The claws of Saavin demons secrete a weak poison," Wesley said matter-of-factly. "Have you experienced any nausea or faintness?"

Rachel shook her head. "It's fine. I got to an underground clinic that deals in…specialized injuries and got patched up and detoxed. Nothing important got punctured."

"You've been using your magic to function," Wesley said. It was not a question.

Rachel nodded.

"It's a wonder you're still upright," he commented.

"Where are you staying?" Angel interrupted.

"The Riverside Motel on Stuart Street. Why?" she asked.

"All right, first order of business. Cordy and Gunn, go to the motel and get her stuff. Clear everything out. Don't leave anything for Wolfram & Hart to find. They're not going to take kindly to the fact you're with us—you'll be a lot safer here," Angel added. "I'm going to go down to the lair and check out the perimeter—see exactly what sort of defenses we're looking at. Wesley, you're in charge of our guest. Keep an eye on her, and also see what you can find on the Savvin."

"What?" Rachel looked from one to the other. "You're actually going to help me? Why? I tried to kill you."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Angel said "That happens to be what I'm in the business of, although I doubt Wolfram & Hart included that in my file."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Thank you for encouraging me in my guilty pursuits, **MysticWolf1**! Yes, I never wanted Rachel to be an all-powerful witch type (because, let's face it, all-powerful characters are just kind of boring). As far as power goes, I'd say she's average.

I know I mentioned that Lindsey and Lilah would be in this chapter, but it started running really long, so I had to break it up some. Tune in next chapter upload to see you favorite evil lawyers.

**Chapter 5**

Angel, Cordy, and Gunn departed, leaving Wesley alone with their latest "client." They stood regarding each other warily for a few seconds.

"Well," Wesley finally said. "It will be a while before they're back. Perhaps you should get some rest while it's quiet." _A lot of rest_, he mentally amended. She looked like death warmed over with a side of hash. Wesley was well versed in the stages of exhaustion. If she'd slept at all in the last two days, he'd eat his copy of the Ashuntu Codex.

"I'll rest when my uncle's safe," she replied shortly. She caught herself, seemed to realize that she was being rude, and smiled apologetically. "I mean, thank you, but I can't."

She was grateful when he didn't press the issue. "Tea then?" he asked. When in doubt, offer tea.

Wesley left her alone for a few minutes and returned to the lobby with a mug in one hand, and several books tucked under his arm. He handed off the tea and settled into an armchair across from her, spreading his source materials out on the coffee table. Rachel curled up in the corner of the sofa, watching curiously.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked after a minute.

"Of course."

"Why are you guys helping me?"

Wesley glanced up from his book. "Angel told you why," he said.

"He did. But I think you'll give me a straight answer."

"Angel helps people in trouble. It's just what he does."

"I've never met that many helpful vampires," Rachel said.

"He's different. He has a soul."

"Big deal. People have souls and we do horrible things to each other all the time."

"He's been working to redeem himself for over a century. Soul aside, you don't do that unless you genuinely care about helping people." Wesley paused, and then decided to go for complete honesty. "And then there's the fact that Wolfram & Hart attempted to take advantage of your situation. That makes matters a bit more personal. He has quite a tumultuous history with them."

"Yeah, they don't like him very much either."

"Indeed."

"So by helping me he scores redemption points and gets to stick it to Wolfram & Hart?" Rachel asked. Because that was much easier for her to digest than the idea that the vampire wanted to help her just for the sake of helping her.

"I suppose you could look at it that way." Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"

She held up a hand. "Nope. Right. I'll back away from the gift horse now." She took a drink of her tea and nearly choked in surprise at a sharp, spicy taste that made her nose and eyes burn. "Ivenseed?" she asked.

"Most effective for shoring up and helping to restore depleted magical reserves," Wesley replied. "It seemed advisable. Too strong?"

"No, it's fine." Just unexpected. She'd used her magic to attack them, and this one was concerned with getting her back up to full power? It crossed Rachel's mind that maybe everyone at Angel Investigations was certifiably insane.

"My Aunt Kathy mixes ivenseed so strong that it could almost take the top of your head off," she said, rambling a bit for the sake of filling the silence. "Anytime one of us even had a cold, it would be right there along with the chicken soup. Once she tried mixing it in the soup, but that didn't go over too well."

Wesley picked up the photo that Angel had left on the table and looked at the laughing woman. "You must be very close to your aunt and uncle."

"They raised me. Since I was nine," she replied.

"What happened to your parents?"

"They were killed," she said. "Line of duty. They were both Kindred too. So are two of my cousins. It's sort of a family tradition."

"Ah," Wesley said, managing to pack a world of commiseration into one syllable.

"Chris and Amy are on assignments out of the country right now. Which is just as well. Otherwise we'd all have to go back and face the music when this is over." At Wesley's questioning look she said, "I disobeyed orders by coming after the Saavin. Even Uncle James is going to read me the riot act if………" She trailed off, rubbing her thumb absently along the rim of the mug.

"If there's the slightest chance of getting him out of this alive, Angel will do so," Wesley said.

They lapsed into a not entirely uncomfortable silence. Wesley read and took notes, pausing every so often to ask Rachel a question about what she had observed of the Saavin. Rachel finished her tea and stared around the lobby of the Hyperion.

It really was a bizarre choice for a headquarters, she thought. The whole agency was bizarre. An ensouled vampire, a former Watcher, a street fighter, and a sometimes-actress. Wolfram & Hart's file on Angel had contained very little information on his human colleagues and how they had all wound up here. And Rachel could feel her curiosity starting to get the better. Surely they wouldn't mind if she asked some questions of her own.

But before she could, the single leaf of greymint that Wesley had slipped in her tea along with the ivenseed took effect, and she slid almost instantaneously into a deep and dreamless sleep.

"God, this place is a dive," Cordelia said.

The Riverside Motel wasn't exactly the Ritz. It wasn't even the Budget Inn. It looked like the sort of place where you paid in cash, were in walking distance of discount liquor, and the motel room artwork consisted of chalk outlines and avant garde blood spatters. Gunn and Cordelia had to edge past a wino, passed out on the walkway, to get to the door of Rachel's room.

Cordelia opened the door and fumbled for the light switch. Gunn closed and bolted the door behind them.

"All the warmth of a French prison," Cordelia said, looking around. "This reminds me of my first apartment."

"It's a sight better than some of the places I've lived," Gunn said. "I guess she wanted to keep a low profile. Let's make this quick. We still have to swing back around by Caritas and pick up her car."

There wasn't much to do. The motel room looked largely untouched. There was a duffle lying across the made-up bed, and a sturdy brown canvas shoulder bag on the floor by the desk. This clearly served as some sort of spell kit, judging by its contents and the paraphernalia spread out on the desktop. Cordelia carefully packed these items up as Gunn did a quick sweep of the room.

Cordelia sighed at the thought of Caritas. "So much for our night off," she said. "What are we doing instead? Playing bellhop in pay-by-the-hour central for a woman who dumped garbage on my head and tried to kill my boss. Does that strike you as even remotely right?"

"She needs help," Gunn said, checking the closet.

"Well, she's not exactly helpless," Cordelia replied. "And when she did decide she needed help, she went straight to Evil Inc."

"She thought she didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Cordelia said. "And her choice was Wolfram & Hart."

"Sometimes when you're backed into a corner, you make stupid decisions," Gunn said. "Besides, I didn't hear you objecting to any of this back at the hotel."

"Yeah, well…." Cordelia hedged, not quite ready to give up indignation for sympathy. Still she couldn't quite help it. "She had that look. You know?"

"The 'loved one in mortal danger' look? Yeah, I got that too," Gunn replied. They saw that look a lot in their line of work.

Cordelia zipped the bag closed. "It looks like that's it. I say we drop the key at the office and get the heck out of here."

"Fine by me." Gunn hefted the duffle and held open the door for her. "I wonder how Angel's making out."

"Well, he's already taken out a witch tonight," Cordelia said, carefully stepping past the sleeping drunk. "What are a few demons?"

As their footsteps retreated, the drunk opened one eye and glanced around. He stood up, brushed off his clothes distastefully, pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed a number.

"Mr. McDonald? It's Rogers—you had me staking out the witch's motel? No, she hasn't come back, but a couple of Angel's people just stopped by. It looks like he killed her."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** I just got back from 5 days of family bonding. Terrible for internet access, but good for editing drafts. So hopefully I'll have the rest of his story typed and uploaded in the next few days!

**MysticWolf1**, as always, thanks for the good advice. I've tinkered with the summary a bit. Glad you enjoyed the last installment. (Yeah, I think Wesley would totally dope someone up if he thought it was for their own good).

**Chapter 6**

Rachel hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said that the Saavin had tight security. The area around the building practically teemed with demons. It had taken Angel a long time to work his way inside their lair. He was slowed down by the fact that he wanted to remain unseen. It would have been much faster to simply fight his way in, but that approach tended to blow the element of surprise. That would be a problem if he couldn't get Rachel's uncle out of here tonight. He didn't want the Saavin on the alert if they had to return in force later.

In the end it was a good thing he exercised caution. He found James Harper by the simple, but effective technique of following the scent of human blood. When he located the room the Saavin were keeping their prisoner in, for a moment he was afraid that the man was already dead.

James Harper was curled on his side on a floor covered with stained and peeling linoleum. He bore little resemblance to the smiling man from the photo. His hair was crusted with blood, as were his clothes. A narrow gash ran down the side of his face and one eye was swollen shut. His right arm was situated at a painfully wrong angle, either broken or dislocated. His breathing was shallow and raspy, hinting at the possibility of more serious injuries.

He was also firmly chained, even though it looked as if there was no possible way he could move under his own steam.

"James," Angel whispered. He checked the man's pulse, and was relieved to find it fairly strong. "James Harper."

The man flinched at the sound of his own name. His head tilted slightly and his good eye opened. He stared at Angel in confusion.

"Who…….?"

"It's all right. I'm here to help you," Angel said.

Mr. Harper looked panicked as he tried to shake his head. "No. Get out. Saavin'll catch you….tear you to pieces……"

"Don't worry about me. Can you walk?"

"Leg's broken. Go. They'll be back soon." Angel could see the man's strength starting to ebb. His eye was dimming and drifting closed.

Angel rocked back on his heels. He knew that he didn't have long before the pair of demons who were monitoring this part of the building came back. Everything in him rebelled against the idea of leaving the man there. But if he tried to remove him now, alone, he knew the consequences would be disastrous. He wouldn't stand much chance of sneaking out while carrying the wounded man, and he'd have even less chance of fighting his way out. And either way, he'd risk hurting him further by moving him.

"I'll be back," Angel promised. "Just hang on a little while longer." He could hear the sentries approaching. Quietly, Angel slipped back into the shadows. It was time to regroup and formulate a plan.

In another part of the building, Lindsey McDonald closed his cell phone with a bemused expression.

"What was that all about?" Lilah asked.

They were waiting to speak to the leader of the band of Saavin, a demon named Cran. Cran's 'office' was a far cry from the room James Harper was currently calling home. This room was crammed with mismatched overstuffed, claw-footed furniture and garish bric-a-brac.

"That was Rogers. He says two of Angel's sidekicks showed up and cleaned out young Miss Harper's motel room."

Lilah rolled her eyes. "Oh God. Angel's adopted another one?"

"According to Rogers, Angel killed her."

That actually made Lilah pause. "If it's true, it would be of great interest to the Senior Partners," she said slowly. "It could be a sign of him moving over to our team."

"If it's true. In which case we'll need to explain why she was sent after Angel in the first place." He and Lilah had already been well warned on that score.

Lilah waved this off. "We were careful. There's nothing to tie her to us. And if somehow they do find out, we say that we sent a resolved and obviously outmatched girl after Angel to push him into killing an innocent. Or a near-innocent," she said. "Okay, it needs some work, but it's all in the spin. Trust me. I'll come up with something."

"_We'll_ come up with something," Lindsey said firmly. If Lilah thought he trusted her enough to let her concoct the story on her own, she was delusional.

"Besides," Lilah continued, ignoring his interruption, "we're about to bring in a huge prize for the firm. That always keeps them from questioning circumstances too closely."

The door opened and a seven-foot tall demon with scaly gray and green skin entered. A dirty red sash, a mark of his rank, was tied across his chest.

"Mr. McDonald. Miss Morgan," Cran said, his voice a gruff snarl. "Please, sit down."

Lilah and Lindsey sat down in a pair of wing chairs upholstered in an eye-smarting shade of magenta.

Cran sat down at an ornate desk. The chair creaked piteously under his weight.

"Not that it isn't always a pleasure," Cran's eyes flicked over to Lilah, "to deal with Wolfram & Hart," he said. "But what brings you down here at such an…..inhuman hour?" He laughed at his own turn of phrase.

Lilah and Lindsey plastered matching professional smiles on their faces. "We're here to offer you an opportunity," Lindsey said without preamble.

"Oh?"

"We got a tip that you have a man in your possession who belongs to the Kindred," Lilah said.

"Kindred." The demon shuddered in disgust. The gesture was almost amusing coming from an overgrown clawed monster. "Royal pains in the ass—if you'll beg my pardon, ma'am," he said to Lilah. Lilah raised an eyebrow. "We picked that one up snooping around one of our training sites. Another one turned up here a couple of days ago. Killed one of my people and burned the hell out of two others. To bad she got away." Cran tapped his claws on the desktop. "What does this have to do with an opportunity?"

Lindsey opened his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "We're prepared to pay you handsomely if you'll let us take him off your hands," he said, handing them over.

The demon flipped through the contract. If Saavin demons had been capable of whistling, he would have done so.

"Handsome indeed. Especially for damaged goods," he said. "What does Wolfram & Hart want with a half dead wizard?"

"We want to offer him a job," Lindsey said.

The demon laughed appreciatively. "This is what I like about you people," he said. "You have a sense of humor. Offer him a job." He set the contract down. "I'm not sure how much is left of him."

"As long as his mind and his mouth are in working order, we don't care about the rest," Lilah said.

The demon smiled. It was not a pretty sight. "Why not? We probably would have killed him in the next day or so anyway." He signed the papers with a flourish. "You!" he barked at one of his underlings. "Go fish that human out of his cell for these good folks."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," Lindsey said, carefully shaking the demon's clawed hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Oy vey. I've rewritten this three times and it still feels a little sloppy, but here goes. On the other hand I am having fun imagining how Angel Investigations would look to an outsider.

**Chapter 7**

Rachel woke up feeling rested and comfortable. For a moment she wondered why that feeling should seem so strange. But memories from the last few days quickly came flooding back, and she opened her eyes to find herself still in the lobby of the Hyperion, stretched out on the sofa. A pillow had been tucked under her head at some point, and she was buried under a soft plaid blanket. She could hear hushed voices (bickering over donuts, it sounded like) and through the glass doors she could see a courtyard washed pale gray with early morning sunlight.

Morning. Rachel sat bolt upright. Angel must be back by now. She was halfway off the sofa when Cordelia appeared, carrying her duffel bag.

"Oh, good. You're awake," Cordelia said.

"Is Angel back?"

"He just got in a few minutes ago. Your uncle is still alive. And as soon as you get cleaned up and eat something, you can start helping us think of a way to MacGyver him out."

"I'm fine. I don't need to--"

"Oh, yeah you do," Cordelia interrupted. "The grunge look is out in LA."

"If I could just talk to him for a minute first--"

"No," Cordelia said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "First, shower and clean clothes. Then breakfast and recon. Come on. Get up. Let's go." And somehow Rachel found herself allowing the younger woman to chivvy her up one of the hotel's carpeted staircases.

Rachel rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "I really didn't mean to drift off last night," she said ruefully.

"Yeah. Because running yourself into the ground is always a better option than taking a break. Hero types." Cordelia shook her head. "Anyway, thank Wesley for that. He slipped you some sort of herbal Mickey Finn."

Rachel stopped dead. "He did what?"

"Mudmint. Greyroot. Something like that. When Gunn and I got back you were imitating a sawmill."

Rachel knew she should feel betrayed. Hoodwinked. Indignant. Angry. But it was way too early in the morning. "Huh. He's sneakier than he looks," she said, continuing up the stairs.

She followed Cordelia into one of the hotel rooms. "So, all of you live here?" Rachel asked. "That's…" _Nice and cult-like_. "Convenient."

"Only Angel actually lives here. But the rest of us keep rooms so we'll have a place to crash," Cordelia replied. She opened the door to a blue-tiled bathroom. "I set out everything you'll need. There's plenty of hot water. Don't skimp on the soap. And later on we'll see about burning those clothes," she added on her way out the door.

Rachel looked down at herself, then turned to check out the view in the mirror. Well, yes. All right. Cordelia did have a point. Her clothes were filthy from the fight in the alley. Her face was streaked with dirt (and her jaw was turning a nice shade of purple). And her hair looked like a bird's nest. Rachel reached over and turned on the tap. Fifteen minutes wasn't going to make any difference in what the vampire had to tell her.

While Cordelia took Rachel upstairs, Angel sat at the desk, simultaneously sketching out a rough floor plan of the Saavin's lair and trying to massage a painful kink out of his shoulder. Gunn leaned over the desk, counting the number of X's that were drawn at strategic points in and around the building.

"Please don't tell me each one of those is a demon," Gunn said.

"They practically have an army garrisoned there," Angel replied. "I nearly ran into a clump of them on my way out and had to hide out in a crate waiting for them to leave." And it hadn't been a terribly roomy crate. Angel didn't think he'd ever be able to turn his head all the way to the right again.

"Saavin demons do tend to cluster in large groups," Wesley said, consulting the pages of information he had compiled. "Their main assets lie in size, brute strength, and the ability to outnumber and overwhelm their enemies."

"They definitely have all of that." Angel marked the entrances, and wrote a "J" in red marker over a remote third floor room. "Rachel's uncle is here," he said, tapping it. "No lock on the door, but they have him chained to the wall. We'll need bolt-cutters. And something to use as a stretcher. They've worked him over pretty good."

"And the four of us are going to storm this place?" Gunn asked dubiously.

"Five, technically," Cordelia said, rejoining them. She helped herself to a bagel from one of the bags she and Gunn had run out to pick up earlier. "I mean, if we're counting Glinda."

"Oh, I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Angel said.

"Why not?" Cordelia asked, taking a bite.

"I'd be willing to lay odds that she'll insist on going along," Wesley said.

"Guys, she's the person we're trying to help. We don't throw a person we're helping into the middle of a fight," said Angel.

"Yeah, but you've got to admit that this isn't exactly a regular one," Gunn replied. "I mean, she didn't just walk in off the street all shaken up from her first run-in with the big scary. Unless you just don't trust her behind your back, which I get, but--"

Angel shook his head. "No. Her motive for killing me was to get her uncle released. That's no longer an issue. I just don't think she's up for it. She's already taken one beating--"

"Well, two if you count yours," Gunn interjected.

Angel made a face at him. "And," he continued, "she was desperate enough to go to Wolfram & Hart for help. Desperate people and battles are not a good combination. They put everyone in danger."

"She obviously knows how to fight," Wesley said. "I think she could be of help to us."

"Yeah. And she can….you know." Cordelia wiggled her fingers at Angel a la cheesy magician. "Could come in handy."

"Besides," Wesley added, "she indicated that her uncle is the only father she's had for some time. He's someone that she cares very deeply about. Unless you're prepared to lock her up, I don't think you're going to have a choice."

Angel looked partly amused, partly perplexed. "Did I miss the part where she bewitched you all into being her advocates?"

"Family, man," Gunn said. "It's a great motivator. We all know what that's like."

Rachel came back downstairs feeling more human than she had in days. Her side seemed to be healing cleanly and a quick inventory of her magic showed it to be building itself back, steady and strong.

She found the four members of Angel Investigations gathered around a hand drawn floor plan and an assortment of take-out breakfast foods. They all turned to look at her, and Rachel suddenly felt like a kid who had just walked in on the grown-ups' conversation. She got the distinct impression that she was being discussed.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Angel said. "Have a seat."

There was a place open by the vampire. Rachel elected to sit between Cordelia and Gunn. They automatically moved to make room, and Gunn handed her a paper plate.

"Dig in. We don't stand on ceremony much around here. Are you a coffee or a tea drinker?" he asked, heading behind the hotel counter.

"I think I'll stick with coffee from now on, thanks," she replied, with a rather pointed look at Wesley.

The Englishman looked thoroughly unrepentant. "Sleep well?" he asked.

"Very," she admitted.

Angel was sitting with a mug of blood in one hand and a half-eaten donut in the other. Firmly quashing an urge to gag, Rachel said, "Cordelia said you found my uncle."

Angel nodded. "He's not in great shape," he cautioned, "but he's alive. I want to move fast on this, though."

"So we go tonight?" Gunn said.

"I don't even want to wait that long," Angel replied. "We'll go this morning. The building is pretty well closed up, so I'll be fine to fight once we're inside. My guess is that they'll have to scale way back on their number of sentries during the day, otherwise they'd attract too much attention. We're going to need everyone on board on this one."

Rachel watched as the others nodded in ready assent. "You too," Angel said. He set down his mug and picked up her dagger. He handed it across to her, hilt first. "If you're up to it, some magical back-up couldn't hurt."

"Try and stop me," she replied.

"Good. Now, here's what I think we should do….."

At nine o'clock in the morning, the lair of the Saavin was as dead as it ever got. Most of the demons were gathered in a large, open room on the ground floor that had once been used as a warehouse. Some of them napped while others sparred or played gin rummy. They were biding their time until nightfall when they could go out and, if they were lucky, score some trespassing teenagers.

Only a few of them looked up at the sound of tires squealing outside. They paid much more notice a second later when a battered pick-up truck plowed through the old wooden doors at the far end of the room. A black car followed right on its back bumper. The vehicles screeched to a halt in the middle of the room, and the Angel Investigations team, plus one, scrambled out.

The fight was faster than it had any right to be, given how firmly they were outnumbered. Angel, Gunn, and Wesley hacked their way through the demons, while Cordelia kept everyone's back coved with a crossbow. Rachel proved that her Kindred dagger wasn't just for show.

She had also prepared a number of spells as part of their collective arsenal. Her magical footing was still a bit shaky, but she had enough juice to disorient and slow down some of the demons so long as she kept her magic tightly channeled. Three of them she managed to freeze outright as they started to surround Cordy. A particularly large demon (this one wearing a red sash) jumped at Wesley's back, preparing to sink all eight claws into him. Rachel lashed out with her magic, and it dropped to the ground, resembling nothing so much as a pile of steaming green sludge.

Wesley looked a little green himself when he saw what was left of the demon. But all he said was, "Thanks."

Most of the demons had scrambled to the warehouse at the first alarm. Once that area was secured, they only had to fight their way through a few demons on their way up to the third floor.

"Down this way," Angel said as they ran down the hallway. "Get ready." A smallish Saavin jumped out of a dark doorway; Angel dropped him with a round house punch. Gunn helped Cordelia with the roll of heavy canvas they'd brought to carry the wizard on. "We get him, get back to the cars, and take him straight to St. Matthew's Hospital. It's only about five miles from here."

But when they reached James Harper's cell, it was empty. The chains that had held him lay in a heap on the bloodstained floor.

"Oh God," Cordelia said.

"Are we…." Wesley trailed off, glancing at the others. They were all thinking the same thing. _Too late_.

Rachel backed slowly out of the room and ran off up the hall.

"Rachel!" Angel called, going after her.

But she hadn't gone far. By the time the others caught up with her, she had the small Saavin suspended in midair, screaming as if he was being eaten alive by Lek'tet scarabs. He broke off abruptly, gulping in air as Rachel, her face set in fury, said, "I said start talking."

"We didn't kill him, I swear," the demon insisted.

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know!"

Rachel raised her hand to administer another dose of persuasion when Angel grabbed her arm. "You're not going to get anything out of him like this," he said. "Bring him down. We'll find out what happened."

She jerked her arm away angrily, but did as he said.

The demon, clearly not used to facing multiple opponents alone, crouched against the wall as the five gathered around him.

"Some humans came and took the wizard," the demon said. "The boss sold him to them."

"Sold him?" Cordelia asked incredulously.

"Who were they?" Rachel demanded.

"Those lawyers from Wolfram & Hart. A man with a fake hand and a woman. They came and took him last night."

Rachel closed her eyes, muttering under her breath. It sound like, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"Where did they take him?" Angel asked.

The demon cringed away from the vampire. "They said something about a safe house near Steverson Park. That's all I know."

Angel looked up at Rachel. "How are you at locator spells?" he asked.

"Good enough," she replied.

"Good. Let's go."


End file.
